


Worst that could happen

by tarantinoslays



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Concerts, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kiss Band - Freeform, Music, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-26 08:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarantinoslays/pseuds/tarantinoslays
Summary: The year is 1976 and Lillian Astra is absolutely fucked. She is 22, broke, unemployed and completely lost in the lights of the Big Apple, the city that promises to make all of your dreams come true.But what if an unexpected twist opens the doors to a new world of loud music, endless roads and a little bit of love thrown along the way? After all, what is the worst that could happen?





	1. Lillian Astra

I have been frowning at the newspaper on the coffee table in my living room for the past two hours. The room was filled with the letters addressed to me that said the company was glad that I had chosen to send my application to them, but sadly they were looking for someone more experienced, someone with better qualifications. As though being fluent in three languages and having excellent grades didn't make me qualified enough. The last one I received the other day made me laugh out loud.

 _Dear_ _Ms_ _Astra_ , it started, _we_ _found_ _your_ _application_ _incredibly_ interesting. However, at this point we're _looking_ _for someone younger to take this position._

This is where I stopped reading an threw the paper straight into the rubbish bin. Now I felt like I should have framed it. I understand declining someone for not having enough job experience, but ditching a twenty-two year old up for being too old was bullshit.

I blew away a strand of dark hair off my face and sighed, crossing my legs on the couch i was sitting on. 

Okay then, perhaps quitting my job just to feel adventurous wasn't the best idea.

I reached out for my mug to drink the rest of the tea that had lost all it's warmth and honestly tasted like slop with mint, when I heard a knock on my door. A knock was a bit of an oversimplification for the three loud thuds that my poor dark wooden door had to suffer. What can I say, some people just believe they have to act like battering rams.

"I'm coming," I screamed as I quickly untangled my legs and ran to take the keys of the hanger. On the doorframe was standing my cousin Heather, her blue eyes were shining mischievously at the light coming from my sunny apartment and forming long rays of sunshine on the floor the dark hallway of the building. 

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" I asked, moving enough to give her enough space to walk in.

"Mr Johnson was sick today," she explained as she entered, quickly taking off her black leather shoes and putting them by the door. At least she didn't march inside with them still on, I had cleaned up my place before sitting down to try read the newspaper notices. Hopefully, it was a small apartment.

"Really?" I asked raising my eyebrow and eyeing her suspiciously. I was just teasing though. She wasn't the kind of person to run away from school, no matter that her looks could fool you. Heather was a die-hard fan of punk and her appearance was showing that. Today she was wearing her black ripped jeans. The above-mentioned had a lot of holes in them and so many strings coming out from literally everywhere, that she looked like she had just robbed some poor homeless person. Her black leather jacket was tangled and thrown on one of the chairs immediately after she entered the room. Her black t-shirt had the name of a band I had never heard before written on it with dark letters that almost blended with the color of the shirt. Wearing her happy colors today it seemed. Her hair was cut off and dyed black, as it used to be light brown like mine. She almost looked like a female version of that Sid Vicious guy, the one she wouldn't shut up about. 

"Fuck off," was her quick answer when she didn't even bother to get annoyed at me. _Tragic_. She jumped on the spot that I had occupied a minute earlier and threw her backpack on the ground. 

Stretched on my yellow couch, she looked so out of place in the bright colored room. Almost like a demon. I snorted. Who could imagine that the same girl will be in her home five blocks away in a hour or so, studying to maintain her perfect grades.

To be completely honest, I did enjoy when she and her best friend came around after school, it amused me to hear about their teenage drama and problems, that they would soon grow up to understand were nothing to write home about. 

"Ouch. So, is there something new at school? Where's Nancy, by the way?" I asked, making my way to her and sitting on the couch.

"Sick, she's got the flu or something," she explained her electric blue eyes fixating on the newspaper on the table. "Oh, now I remember! I came to tell you that mom asked me to make you call her tonight, because she wanted to talk to you. She said she talked to one of her clients and she could set you up with a job that would suit you." 

With that being said, my eyebrows shot up so high, I could swear I felt them touch my hairline. "That would suit me? No insult but aunt has two moods. She either things I have to wear a tie and a pen skirt and work in a bank or become a street performer. Which one do I have to get ready for?" I asked half-jokingly. I loved aunt Teressa to death, but her choosing a job for me was a bit too much at this point.

Heather laughed. "Maybe both. I have no idea what is going on in her head right now. She could make you a professional boxer with your martial arts experience for all I know."

"Are you kidding me? She came to one of my competitions a few years ago and she was going to pass out when the fighting started," I laughed and the black-haired girl joined me.

"You don't say. I remember you kicked that girl in the face and she gasped so quickly that the other competitor's coach turned around to see what had happened," she snickered and I burst into fits of laughter again.

We chatted some more and I thought just how easy it was for me to talk to Heather, no mather she was six years younger than me. My grandfather would joke the truth was in our names. Heather and Lilly were both flowers, right? That was the thing that got us closer — our dislike of our names. Heather swore she would change it in a heartbeat when she turned twenty one. I wasn't that pretentious to be honest. I knew a girl in university whose name was Begonia, so I guessed there was worse.

Soon enough, I had to send my cousin away and after promising that she would come again with Nancy this time in a few days, she left, leaving me alone again in the warm June afternoon.

✵✵✵

I admit I barely waited for the evening when I dialed aunt Teressa's phone and waited for her to answer. I was chewing on my nail as I was holding the receiver, when I heard her voice on the other end of the line.

_"Hello?"_

_"Hello, auntie Tess, it's Lilly."_  

 _"Oh, darling, it's so good to her from you again. Clumsy me, I should have asked you for dinner,"_ she immediately said and from the tone of her voice I could tell she really was getting upset for not asking me to spend the evening with them. 

 _"Oh, please, don't worry,"_ I hurried to calm her, _"I am going out with some friends in a hour anyway, so I doubt I would have made it,"_ I lied, I had just called my meeting off, because my friend was having a headache and decided that going out wasn't the best idea. 

_"It doesn't matter dear, you are not feeding well enough anyway, look how puny you have be—"_

_"Don't worry, I'm working out, I'm feeding healthy, everything is alright. Heath said you wanted to talk to me. About some job."_  

 _"Yes, you see, one of my clients, who is a tour manager of this music band has been complaining recently that one of his assistant has quitted her job unexpectedly and he needs someone on her place fast, since they are leaving for tour soon. And of course I explained him how talented you are, how you can deal with problems and find solutions easily, how your education is suitable for the job, that you have perfect grades from A to Z..."_  

 _Oh no,_ I thought, _what have you done?_  

 _"... so he agreed that you can go on an interview tomorrow and he'll see what he could do. Isn't that great,"_ she almost screamed the last words into the phone, her voice high-pitched from excitement. I was somehow glad that she was trying to help me, but imagining I might have to stand in front of that same person she was talking to about me made me feel self-consious.

 _"Yes," I finally managed to say, "yes, that's great, thank you,"_ I managed to say after a pause. 

"That's amazing dear, the meeting will be tomorrow at 2, sleep better and dress decent," my aunt ordered in a sing-a-song voice and explained me what I had to bring to the interview, got ready to hang up, when I stopped her.

"Wait, auntie Tess, you didn't tell me the name of the group!"

 _"Oh darling,"_ she sighed _"I can't remember it right now. They are those boys with the painted faces, you must have heard of them,"_ my jaw dropped and I heard a shout coming from the other end of the line that wasn't my aunts, _"Heather says their name was KISS, of course, how could I forget..."_ she continued talking, but I wasn't really listening.

_Freaking KISS, you should have started with that. There's no way I'm going to work for freaking KISS._

I quickly thanked my aunt and hung up, sitting on my favorite spot on the couch. I was staring at a spot on the TV in front of me as the thoughts flooded my head. It wasn't like I had anything against the band, their image or their music. Hell I must have listened their last album, 'Destroyer' enough times to know the lyrics by heart. I wasn't afraid or nervous of being around them and their celebrity status. I was worried about being part of something so big. _I knew nothing about being around rock stars. Did I really have the guts to screw up a KISS tour by taking part of it? As a tour manager's assistant? No way!_

"No way," I repeated out loud to remind it to myself, as I got up to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

Fifteen minutes later I was lying on my bed, staring at the dark summer sky from one of the big windows of my bedroom. No matter how small the apartment was, I had chosen it for the huge windows that gave me a beautiful view to the lights of night Manhattan. When I was a kid I wished to move in in a house there, near 5th Avenue, to feel in the center of the big city. To be a part of something big. Strangely, in that moment a thought crossed my mind. A quote from a book that I had read not too long ago. And I made my choice.

 

"What if I fall?" Oh, but my darling, what If you fly?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to post my story here from Wattpad. I hope you forgive me the mistakes, I wrote that one long ago.


	2. KISS (my ass)

_June 26, 1976_

I woke up in the morning from the light that was shining through the gap between the curtains and straight to my face. I turned around to face the cerulean blue wall of my bedroom instead as I swore the huge windows were the worst idea ever.

I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the tiny alarm clock, trying to check the time without really opening my eyes. 10:34. _Bitch_.

I threw it on the other end of the bed as I rubbed my eyes with the back of my wrist, finally moving to a sitting position. My anxiety to be late for my interview (even though I knew it was at 2 in the afternoon) made me wake up at 01:30 and then again around 5. I didn't feel like I had a great sleep, or even good to be honest. Even though I took the covers off myself and put my slippers on.

I walked straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Spending too much time under the flow of the warm water would mean I would get sleepy again and that was honestly the last thing I wanted.

When I finished washing my hair, I used the towel I usually dried my face with to clean off the steam of the mirror and take a better look at myself. My dark brown hair was getting way too long for my liking. I took a wet strand and inspected it carefully, frowning at the split ends, which were not so noticeable when the hair was soaked, but knowing about them made me furious. I needed to fix that some time soon.

I looked up again and met my brown eyes in the mirror. I was way too proud to say that I wasn't pretty. I knew I was better looking than some people, but not something really impressive, not the type of girl you would write a poem or a song about.

I dried my hair and braided it to try to curl it a little. The problem was, that there wasn't a single wave on it and there were days (take this one for example) when it was driving me insane. My mother had the hugest, curliest mane that I believed even Robert Plant would envy. I however, had obviously had the bad luck in that matter.

I had a big breakfast with the thought that I wouldn't be home before diner and that I would hopefully be out to celebrate my new job with friends, brushed my teeth and packed my bag, putting the fruit of four years hard and hated work in the face of my degree in bank accounting and all the other papers in a small leather bag I had bought long ago.

Now, the clothes. That part I found the hardest. I didn't believe I should wear something too formal, but perhaps most of my other clothes that were mostly jeans and colorful T-Shirts wouldn't be the greatest idea. I smiled when I saw the shelf with the collection of band shirts I owned. Buying one from every concert I attended was probably why my budget was so tight these days but it was my dad's golden rule, perhaps the greatest traditions we had.

After all I chose a pair of black trousers that were covering my legs down to my mid-ankles and a white long-sleeved shirt. I took the brown velvet jacket I had taken from my mom's wardrobe some years ago, while my family still lived here in New York. I fixed my make-up and put my now slightly wavy hair down my shoulders, grabbed my bag and went out.

✵✵✵

The interview was taking place in a studio in Manhattan and it took me less time than I thought to travel from my apartment in Brooklyn than I thought. So here I was, standing in front of the building's large doors and wondering what the hell was I supposed to do during the remaining forty minutes. After all, I decided to walk the streets around the studio, making circles like the fucking idiot I was. I entered a few shops, but couldn't really look around, being afraid to actually turn up late after arriving too early in the first place.

Thirty minutes later I opened the door that lead to the event that meant whether or not I would get my friends happy drunk tonight. I wasn't really nervous before, but now I could feel the familiar feeling in my gut and the whole atmosphere changed. I suddenly started wondering if I had really chosen the right outfit, how my hair looked and why the hell had I slept until ten, when I could get rid of all the blackheads on my nose instead. I tried to calm myself down, taking a breath and letting it out. I got up the stairs and easily found the room that I was supposed to get in. There were a few more minutes, so instead of knocking on the door, I turned around and noticed the three chairs across the hallway. One of them was taken by a man. I headed towards him, smiled politely and took the place next to him. He just looked at me up and down, judging my appearance, and perhaps he figuring out I was waiting for the same room he was too, he turned his look away.

The grumpy man was about his mid to late forties, his hair was graying and his eyebrows were way too hairy to be good for the eyes. He was sitting straight, his bag was laying in his lap and he looked straight ahead with a insolent look on his face like he owned the place. He seemed so strict and harsh, as though he was expecting to meet the band he was actually applying to work for and immediately scold them like the rest of the older people I had heard talk about the hottest band in the world.

Suddenly, the door opened and a short man came out. He was younger than my friendly chair-neighbor and looked pretty laid back, from what I could tell from only one look.

"Mr Bohnegan?" The man next to me nodded. "Ms Astra?" the one on the door turned around, his eyes stopped on me. I answered with a 'yes' and the man smiled warmly, extending his hand and inviting us both inside.

✵✵✵

"Wait, like both of us?” I asked when the man turned around, walking in the room.

"Yes, yes of course, please come in," he smiled again and I couldn't help but follow Mr Bohnegan inside.

There, around a big table of dark wood, were sitting four other men. They were dressed in dark leather clothes, all of them long-haired, the shiny strands looking like huge black clouds around their heads. I didn't need to be much of a logical thinker to figure out who they were.

KISS were right there, sitting in front of me without a single sign of make-up on their faces. I was quite surprised they had agreed to unmask to me and my fellow uh, colleague, rival, whatever, but they must have figured out that one of us was potentially going to work for them anyway. Or perhaps they decided that it wasn't worth it going through the whole make-up routine for such a short time, I had no clue. I was glad though, it didn't seem ethical to me to talk business without seeing the person's face.

"Here, take a seat," the short man pointed to the two spare chairs and took his own place on the other side of the table. He was sitting in the middle of the group, so that he was separating them in two couples.

Me and Mr Bohnegan sat down and I looked up at the man who had invited us in. He looked at least ten to fifteen years older than me — his hair was short and unlike the rest he was wearing a suit and a tie. I thought he looked almost ridiculously out of place between the rockers on his both sides.

"My name is Bill Aucoin," he introduced himself "and I am the manager of the band. These are Peter and Ace," he looked to his left side. The two men greeted us with wide smiles on their faces. "and those are Gene and Paul," he motioned to the right. Gene nodded, and Paul gave us a restrained smile and a quiet greeting. "Guys, these are Mr Robert Bohnegan and Ms Lillian Astra, who want to work for us as a tour manager's assistant."

"So, ladies first, tell us a little about yourself Ms Astra," Bill asked as he took all the papers I had taken out of my bag for them to take a look at.

"My name is Lillian Astra. I'm 22 years old. I come from a family of immigrants from Eastern Europe, but I was born here, in New York City, where I studied mathematics and later bank accounting. I've been working for this bank for the past year, but I quit a couple of weeks ago, I —"

"Why?" my eyes flew to Paul, who had his dark eyes fixed on me "Why'd you quit?" I gulped. What am I supposed to say! Was it work ethics to tell your potential bosses that you just quit your previous job because you got bored of it! Would it make me seem inconstant, untrustworthy?

"I... I figured out it just wasn't for me. It wasn't what I wanted to do, " I answered and swore in my mind when I saw a look of confusion cross his handsome face. He opened his mouth to ask something more, but he was interrupted by the man beside me, who had snorted superciliously.

I could feel the that angry part of me that definitely wanted to bite back and defend me make the words rise up my throat. However, I bit my tongue and kept my mouth shut. After all, _Mr Boh-kiss-my-ass-negan_ wasn't worth ruining my job opportunities.

All the eyes in the room where on the guy beside me, who didn't say anything else. He just turned around, looking at me, like he was giving me permit to keep talking. Paul's eyes tore away from the man and nodded at me to continue. If he had a question on his mind he didn't ask it.

"It was just like every day was just the same like the rest. I worked for them for a year and I felt like I was reliving the same day over and over again. I would go to my office in the morning and all I would see until I would go home were numbers. Numbers, Numbers, numbers until you go insane," at this point I felt like I was riding a bike downhill, the words were coming out on their own, probably caused by the reaction of the dickhead on my right.

"And at some point I asked myself — 'Is that how I want to live my live? Ending up hating it?' Because if 30 years from now I would look back and be bored! That's not how I want to live, that's not who I want to be," I ended my speech, looking around at the four band members in the room.

I might have imagined that, but I swear the looks on their faces have softened just a little. Perhaps it wasn't an idea they were foreign to.

Paul nodded and Bill asked Mr Bohnegan to talk about himself a little, leaving me with my thoughts.

I wasn't really listening the man talking about his strong sides, something I had completely forgotten to even mention. I was counting the leafs on the plant in the corner of the room when I heard it.

"... I am stable, meaning I won't take groundless risks or think about leaving a job when I get bored of it, I don't drink or smoke and go to bed early, so I can be productive enough to actually do my job..."

"You must be fun at parties then, " I hissed quietly under my breath and the room went silent. I raised my head in shock, realizing I was heard, something that wasn't my intention in the first place.

Perhaps all the eyes would stay focused on me if their owners hadn't turned their gases to Ace, who was laughing his ass off in his chair. His high-pitched cackle was filling the room, not really helping me to calm down, as my mind was busy with something a lot more important. _Will apologizing make the situation worse?_

I didn't have time to open my mouth and say anything as Ace calmed down and turned to the rest of the group.

"That's it! That was it for me folks! I have my winner," he explained and chuckled again to himself, turning to me and giving me a wide smile. I tried not to look too shocked and confused, but I couldn't help but smile back, almost shyly.

Next to Ace, Bill coughed and asked Mr Bohnegan another question, playing it off as nothing had just happened, but I could swearI saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards before he returned his expression to normal again.

✵✵✵

The other part of the interview felt almost like a trance. They asked me a few more questions, mostly about my degree and other skills, I talked about my teamwork abilities and other things that they must have found important. In the end, Bill promised they would call us in the next couple of days to tell us if we got the job. I then shook hands with all of them, even Mr Bohnegan, grabbed my things and headed home, not feeling extremely proud of myself.

✵✵✵

_The band stayed in the studio long after the two candidates left, around that same table, looking through the notes they had taken during the interview. The room was mostly silent, only the sound of pages being turned and Ace and Peter's quiet conversation about something really different than what they were supposed to be discussing. After all they had a decision to make._

_Suddenly, Bill cleared his throat to get the attention. The guitarist and the drummer shut up and four pairs of eyes looked towards the manager._

_"So, what do you think?"_

_"My call was pretty clear from earlier, I don't know what I'm even doing here," Ace prompted, waving his hand to emphasize his words, earning himself a glare from Gene._

_"I'm with Ace," Peter added, moving a strand of hair away from his face. "I can't imagine spending the whole tour with that guy. Hell, even those two hours were enough for a lifetime."_

_"Did you see him though," a smile creeped it's way to Gene's face, "I bet if he comes with us he will make sure we're tucked in and locked in our rooms right after the show to make sure we do him no harm. That chick though," his smile turned into a smirk, "I have a few ideas about her."_

_"Paul?"_

_Paul didn't answer right away. "I didn't like how she reacted," he finally admitted. "She defended herself, yeah, but you could see the spite in her eyes when she said it, thinking we won't hear. I believe she is the better choice, but still... I dunno," he explained._

_"Really? That's exactly what I liked," Gene defended. "The girl has spirit. And the thing he was trying to call her out for... you got to have guts to do that. Besides, her position isn't that important. If she can't do it, we'll find someone else."_

_Paul remained silent again._

_"Her qualification is pretty good to be honest. She must have sat on her ass and studied when she needed to," Bill added._

_"Come on, Paul, let's do it. Dive into the deep. That's rock 'n' roll. What's the worst that could happen?" Ace almost whined. Not that much because he thought the choice was important, he just really wanted to leave this place and head to the bar._

_Paul looked around the room and finally, looked at Bill. He nodded._

✵✵✵

I was rolling in my bed, listening to my friend Miranda rant about her boyfriend's annoying habit of leaving the lights on in every room of her apartment when he visited her. We had postponed our appointment with the rest of the squad, so Miranda had decided to come over to tell me all about how much it was irritating her.

It was around 8 o'clock when the phone in the living room rang. I apologized to Heather and ran barefoot across the apartment to pick up.

"Hello, Lillian speaking," I said into the speaker.

The voice on the other end of the line was unmistakeable.

"Evenin'," Ace Frehley greeted, "and welcome to the freakshow, Lady Spitfire" he managed to exclaim, before someone obviously pulled the phone from his hands and Bill's voice was the next thing I heard.

"So, Ms Astra, are you free tomorrow to come to the studio again to discuss the details and for you to sign?" He asked.

"Yes, of course," I confirmed, trying to get over the initial shock, "uh... same time?"

"Perfect. We'll see tomorrow then." He wished me good night and the signal was lost, leaving me still with the phone pressed to my ear. Moments later, an almost goofy smile spread across my face.

_Welcome to the freakshow. We'll see about that._

 


End file.
